Knocked Up and Dangerous
by Felicity Hartington
Summary: "Steve... I'm pregnant." Steve Rogers is faced with the biggest crises known to mankind: he's going to be a father. After a drunken one-night stand with the lovely Sharon Carter, he learns two things: he CAN get drunk and Daddyhood is a whole new category of herowork.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Who Knew Superheroes Got Drunk? **

Steve wasn't entirely sure why he found himself at the bar close to his home. He felt at an all-time low. After months of a fruitless search for Bucky, Sam and he had decided to head home for a month of "vacation." The term almost made Steve laugh, upon returning home he found his answering machine filled with frantic messages from a few ex-agents of SHIELD, urging him to come to an Avengers' meeting. He knew he really should have called them back, considering Natasha had been urging him to get back into the swing of things. Yet with everything that had happened over the course of the past year, he just wanted to be off the hero track for a few weeks.

Of course, coming to the grungy bar near his apartment was not perhaps the smartest decision. As soon as the Captain had entered, at least six people fell out of their seats. A journalist had leaped up, practically jumping on the super soldier. Steve had dismissed him, using the excuse that he was not open to comment on any of the current issues that exploited SHIELD. Honestly, it was the truth. After six months of avoiding the press, Steve was still struggling to figure out just what had happened. HYDRA. That's what had happened, but Bucky… He had felt sure it had not been sheer coincidence he wound up safe on the banks of the Potomac alive…partially, anyway. Something—someone—had saved him, and he was holding onto the thin shred of hope that it had been his best friend. Maybe he had gotten through to him… If he had, Bucky hadn't shown his face since that day on the Helicarrier.

Things began to settle down as Steve drank his fifth beer; there was still no sign of an easy buzz he had been hoping for. He had known it was nearly impossible for him to get drunk, but tonight was one of the rare times he wished he could. He simply wanted to forget the enormous pressure that rested on his shoulders, and lose himself in the carefree reality of alcohol. He decided he would simply keep drinking, figuring one way or another he would have to get a slight buzz. As he drank on, he heard the door open and the sound of high-heels click against the tiled floor. He looked up and felt a tired sigh pass from his lips. It was Sharon Carter. Great.

Sharon, the same SHIELD agent who had posed as the "innocent, cute nurse" down the hall from him, had entered the bar. And the worst part? She looked amazing. Her placid and "do-goody" appearance from her days as a "nurse" had been abandoned, as her blond curls had now grown past her shoulders. Her pastel pink scrubs had been replaced with a black leather jacket with a bright red tank top to match, but her most startlingly transformation was not her form-fitting clothing, but her bright brown eyes that were nearly identical to Peggy's. At the time they had met, they were sweet and kindly, but now the generous twinkle had been switched with a powerful and fearless glimmer. Steve found himself staring at his old neighbor and turned back to his half-empty drink.

Agent Thirteen, as she had once been known as, strode over to Steve, she sat down beside him. She knew it was him, but she refrained from giving a greeting. With the blond sitting not a foot away from him, he was able to recognize the telltale signs of insomnia resting beneath her chocolate brown eyes. His own eyes had shown plenty of sleepless nights over the past two years. Her face was sunken and narrow like she hadn't eaten a proper meal in months, she looked pale and sallow. She ordered a glass of gin with a splash of cranberry. Finally, she moved her eyes to Steve's.

"I haven't seen you in a while." She sipped her drink, averting her eyes away from his.

The Captain found himself chuckling at her remark. "Yes, well… That's what happens when someone's avoiding you." He looked at her pointedly. He wasn't about to lie. Steve was not a fan of deception, coming from a time where honesty was everything. He had once told Fury those exact words: Sometimes his generation did things that made them not sleep well at night, but they got over it, made compromises… They were _honest_. They didn't go around their problems, but stuck their feet in the dirt a little deeper and drove harder against the never ceasing enemy. It was the ways of his generation, and he couldn't forget it no matter how hard he tried.

Sharon sighed and rolled her eyes, she seemed on edge. "Look, Steve, I told you I was sorry for-ˮ

"For lying to my face for over a year?" He said evenly, not missing a beat as he ordered another beer.

She took in a patient breath, pausing for a moment, as if she was biting some bitterness back. "For everything. I'm sorry that you've had to endure this… It must be hard trying to find someone who understands everything you're going through."

Steve chuckled darkly. "Yeah, try finding someone who's ninety-seven years old, was frozen in time for seventy years, and _then _his best friend—who he thought was dead—is back seemingly as a psychotic guy with a bionic arm. For some odd reason, there seems to be a lack of support groups who can really relate." He swallowed another healthy amount of his drink. Finally, a lightly fuzzy feeling was beginning to settle over him on his seventh drink…or what it his eighth? He couldn't be sure anymore.

"You don't think I don't understand that?" She snapped. Her brown eyes looked like they were on fire. "I'm trying to be your friend, Rogers." She finished her drink with a satisfied sigh. "I might not know what hell it was like to live in the forties, but I could try. I'm not promising I'm going to dress up as a Nazi so you chase me around, but I want to help you_. Let me_ help you."

"I don't need your help, ma'am. I just want my friend back." He said dryly. He could feel a sort of foggy haze begin to settle over his speech. Was he actually getting drunk?

"Captain Rogers, to be perfectly honest, you do." She said with a sort of bluntness that made Steve begin to smile. "SHIELD's in ashes, Captain America is drunk—ˮ how could she know, already?—"and you're a hero with nothing to save. The world's changed, but despite that, you can still change it. Maybe what the world needs right now is a man who came from a time where life was simpler, and when people were told to do something, they just did it, no questions asked."

Steve smirked at her sudden talkative personality. He hadn't seen her as a girl who would want to strike up a conversation. "Did you ever think the world changed me, Miss. Carter? This new and edgy century just had that effect on me, maybe?"

At that, Sharon smiled at him with an impish sort of grin. "No. Because I have a feeling, you promised someone you wouldn't let the world change you. No matter how hard it became…you just wouldn't do it." She ended her point by drinking another half of her second drink.

Her words struck home. She was right. His good friend, Dr. Erskine, had made him vow those very things shortly after his transformation. It made him feel like breaking open. He simply wanted to spill open and let someone else deal with the world's problems, but he couldn't do that. He _wouldn't _do that. The Captain didn't answer her, finding it immensely difficult to come up with a thoroughly thoughtful reply, when he was beginning to feel _way_ past tipsy.

"Steve…?" Sharon gently laid a hand against his shoulder blade. Her fingers were soft and careful, as if he wasn't the strongest man alive… She touched him as he was breakable. As said, being the strongest man in the world, everyone always believed he was unbreakable… And he was, he wasn't saying that he would ever crumble, but it was nice to see someone else care about him that way. He turned to face her, noticing just how beautiful Sharon Carter was. Her golden curls and those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to be brimming with concern. Steve's eyes wandered down to her lips. They were a light shade of rose, with a full bottom lip and a perfect peaked top to match.

"Captain Rogers, are you-ˮ She stopped short when he stood up. He had taken a step towards her, his blue eyes solely focused on her. Her fear began to bubble up alongside with her desire. The tension in the room had definitely changed, it had been dreary and pressed when she had entered, now there seemed to be sparks…a tingling sensation rattled down her spine. In all her years of experience with SHIELD, she knew how moments like these went. This was the climax where she either reacted or lost her momentum. She chose to act. Her hands boldly rested on his chest and her eyes met his. At the first sight, their gazes locked and Steve bowed his head. His lips were mere centimeters from hers and she could feel the very pulse of life beneath her fingertips.

"I'm done feeling like shit." He said simply. He closed the distance and kissed her with no hesitation.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: OHMYGOD. THANK YOU EVERYONE SO MUCH FOR THE FAVORITES AND THE ALERTS! AND EVEN MY SOLO REVIEWER! You guys literally rock! :) I'm going to have short chapters for a while, but I promise, they'll increase as time goes on! Thanks so much for reading! Keep favoring, alerting, and reviewing, please! :) ONCE AGAIN, THANK YOU SO MUCH! :) Love, Fel Hartington **

**Chapter Two: Abs of Hardened Steel… Or Chocolate? **

Sharon awoke to a hammering headache in her right temple. Due to her training in SHIELD, she came to realize this headache was caused by dehydration…or high amounts of alcohol consumption. If she opened her eyes even a millimeter, sharp and piercing light would invade her vision, blinding her almost instantly. Her thoughts were scattered and discombobulated like birds across a stormy sky. _What happened last night…? _The field agent didn't believe she had ever felt this hung-over since college. She groaned softly and realized her cheek was resting against something warm and solid… A gentle rhythm beat beneath her ear; she frowned slightly and listened closely. A peaceful snore interrupted her concentration, the noise making a slight dissertation within her warm pillow. That's when she realized very quickly: That was _not_ a pillow! Sharon ignored the sudden light that caused her headache to explode across her forehead, but leaped from the bed.

Quickly, she studied her surroundings, this was unfamiliar territory. The bedroom had a look that appeared as if its occupant hardly stayed there. A few books like Orwell's _1984 _and Ernest Hemingway's _For Whom the Bell Tolls _were stashed above a brand new Mac computer. It was untouched, as were a pile of yellowed comics portraying a man with a red-white-and-blue shield… Sharon didn't have to be the genius she was to put together the pieces as to what happened last night. Her eyes precariously and cautiously shifted to the side of bed where her nighttime partner lay. His hand hung limply off the edge of the bed, while massive muscles seem to jut out of the tanned skin beneath it. His face, as she had secretly admired many times before, was relaxed and quiet with sleep. It was her dream and worst fear come true. She had slept with Steve Rogers. Her assignment. Her secret fetish for the past year…

How had this happened? She sat down on the chair at his desk, running a hand through her tangled blond curls, scanning through the previous night's events. She had gone to Daly's Pub near her old apartment building, she had come to hold the stingy and interesting smell of Daly's close to her heart, simply because it was like her: A bit lost, but in the right place. Steve had been there. His mood had been morose, but after a quick talk about—well, something (she was too hung-over to remember)—Steve had kissed her… His lips… Something within herself latched onto the feeling of his lips against hers. They were soft, inviting, and laced with an irresistible, tangible feeling. They woke up electricity that ran through her veins thicker than any substance… He was real and _so…_sexy.

What the hell? Sharon snapped herself out of this clouded haze of Steve Rogers and went to work grabbing her clothes and quickly dressing. When she heard the super soldier begin to stir, she felt her heart skip a beat and she sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. It hadn't dawned on her that she was actually in the bedroom of Captain America. _The _Captain America. What was she going to say? The only thing she could think of is: So… Was that good sex, or what? She blushed bright red at the thought. Holy shit. What she supposed to say?!

A groan came from the bedroom and then a heavy crashing noise, Sharon fearing the worst, opened the door quickly, slamming the door right into Steve's face. The beloved superhero grabbed hold of his forehead. "Oh, God!" He plopped on the bed side. Sharon blushed fiercely, a shaky and sickly feeling washing over her… The alcohol wasn't settling so well in her stomach. Neither was anxiety.

"Oh, my God, Captain Rogers! I'm so sorry! What-What should I do?" She asked frantically. Steve was still cursing and holding the side of his face.

"Icepack. Water." He snapped a bit harshly, but Sharon understanding his hang-over, rushed to get some ice. She oddly knew his kitchen like the back of her hand… How could that possibly be right? She had only been in here twice. Once, when her fridge had broken and Steve had kindly offered to let her store some things in his, and secondly, when the Winter Soldier had taken down Director Fury. Her brown eyes noticed an open bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup sitting on the counter. She frowned slightly and raised an eyebrow at the bottle. Had they decided to have a glass of chocolate milk last night? Odd. She grabbed the ice pack and a bottle of water from his fridge, rushing back into Steve's bedroom.

Captain Rogers had gathered himself to some extent, his face was blemish free. While his abdomen, marred only by a white scar of a bullet wound, was like a work of art. But there was something dried to his hardened muscular abs… It looked oddly like chocolate. Sharon decided not to mention what she had found in the kitchen. She handed Steve his icepack and he idly placed it to the side of his face. "So…" Sharon began.

Steve only looked up to her rumpled appearance; his blue eyes were hazy and glazed. "How…?" He asked.

"We must have been shit-faced beyond imagine." She chuckled slightly, trying to lighten the heavy and awkward tension that had settled among them. Steve blushed a bit and looked away.

"Yeah, I uh… I'm not usually like that. I don't usually do that with a girl." He said groggily.

Sharon frowned slightly and raised an eyebrow. He didn't usually "_do it_"with a girl? "You don't have sex with women?" She asked.

Steve smacked his palm against his forehead with a groan. "Ah, no… I mean… I… Yes… No! I'm not gay!" He said quickly. His face was beat red, and his shoulders were tense. His body language spoke of uncertainty. Sharon was quickly reminded that Steve hadn't always been the lady-killer he was in the modern days. In the 40's, before his super soldier serum, he was a shrimp with asthma. She had seen the pictures, but even now, she couldn't believe that was the man her Aunt Peggy had fallen for.

She found herself laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, Steve followed suit, finding it easier to laugh than to sit awkwardly. "Jesus Christ, we need to work on our morning-after skills." Sharon finally gasped out through her laughing. "Can we agree to start over?"

"Sure, I don't have a problem with that… But, uh, Sharon… Why is there chocolate smeared across my body?"

Sharon stopped laughing instantly. "Right, well… You see, I uh…" She grabbed her jacket and made a mad dash for the door, slamming it quickly behind her.

* * *

After Sharon had so abruptly left, Steve had fallen into a light doze on his couch, his phone began buzzing beside his ear. He answered with sleep thick in his tone. "Hello?" He closed his eyes, falling back into his stupor, that is—until he heard the voice at the other line of the phone.

"I know who you are, Steve Rogers. It's time you and I talked. Arlington Cemetery, 15:00 hours. You know the grave." Steve snapped to alert, his feet swung to the floor. He ran a hand through his thick blonde hair, causing it to fall in wisps around his face.

"Buck…?" But the voice was already gone.

**And you thought this was going to be one of those lame romantic stories… ;) WRONG! I love action and suspense to do that, sorry, there's going to be a lot of crazy shit going down in this story. KEEP READING! :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: OHMYGOD. GUYS. YOU. ARE. LITERALLY. AMAZING! THANKS SO SO SO MUCH FOR MY REVIEWS AND FAVORITES AND LIKE ALL TEN OF MY ALERTS :) It literally means so much! You guys make me want to keep writing, so thanks so much, AGAIN :)) I had a lot of fun writing this chapter as it has a little bit of Steve/Bucky (no slash pairing, just friendship ;)) I'm a huge fan of their friendship, seriously it's just beautiful. Thanks for everything! Keep favoring, alerting, and reviewing! :) LOVE YOU ALL! :)) **

**Chapter Three: Staying Positive**

Steve made his way through the famed Arlington Cemetery. He was sporting his favorite brown leather jacket, nicely fitted over a checkered flannel. As he drove over I-70 into Arlington, his thoughts had been solely focused with the voice on the phone. He had known that voice since he was eight. It was hardened and a bit raspy, but it was _his_. He knew it more than he had ever known anything in his life. It was Bucky's, his beloved best friend. When he had last seen Buck, he wasn't exactly willing to sit and have a few drinks with Steve. Actually, he had almost succeeded in killing him… But they would work on that.

Arlington Cemetery was a beautiful place for the dead. The grass was mowed and clipped to perfection, while the white grave markers were scrubbed clean of decay and corrosion. Big weeping willows and maple trees reached sleepily across the graves, shading the dead from harsh sunlight. Some graves were laid with flowers and wreaths, a few even had miscellaneous CD tracks, toys, and other knickknacks placed before them. Steve walked to the back of the cemetery; the grave he sought wasn't recent… It had been there for over seventy years. Upon seeing it, Steve felt a welt of emotion swell in this throat. The grave was lovingly decorated with patriot colored tinsel and a plastic action figure of Captain America sat on top of the grave, almost as if it was keeping careful vigilance on the cemetery. Mounds of flowers and comic books lay stacked on either side of the grave marking. The Captain was touched by the affection these people had felt for him, he found himself smiling at the tokens.

"Six inches to your left, Rogers." His voice interrupted his spew of continuous thoughts, making him freeze in place. Steve slowly turned to face the darkened silhouette of his sudden company. His bright blue eyes picked up the outline of a broad-shouldered man leaning against a tree. The way he was poised would suggest he was calm and nonchalant, but Steve knew better than to trust that. He slowly turned to the left and noticed the small grave marker beside his own. Unlike his own, it was not lovingly decorated. A bundle of roses had died and withered into an unrecognizable floral lump.

**SERGEANT JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES **

**107****th**** INFANTRY **

**March 12****th****, 1917-February 25****th****, 1943 **

"**When all good men fall, where do the rest of us lie?" **

"I tried to find you." Steve said through a strained tone. His stomach had twisted into a knot, while his heart was in his throat. He hadn't had an actual conversation with Bucky since that day on the train…when he let him slip through his fingers to fall to the icy waters below. The idea that his friend was standing there only a mere yard's width away from him, alive, was a bit overwhelming.

"I know." He refused to move from his pose by the tree. "I didn't want to be found, yet."

"Why?" Steve asked. A painful quaver breaking through his tone, all the while his blue eyes searched for his friend's familiar brown ones. "I can help you, Buck."

"You can't help me, Rogers." His voice was void of all emotion. He stepped from the shade of the tree, revealing his tall form. He was larger than Steve remembered. His muscle mass having doubled since their days in the 40's, while his face which had been light and full of charisma, was now sunken and solemn.

"You know that's not true, Bucky. I'm here… I'm here for you." He swallowed. "Till the end of-ˮ

"Don't say that!" Bucky snapped. His brown eyes were ablaze with a ferocious sort of energy. His fists were clenched with panic; his whole body was visibly tense. The Winter Soldier was on the verge of revealing himself. "Don't. Say. It." He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth.

Steve found himself a bit taken back, but nonetheless he took a step towards his friend. "James, listen to me… I can help you…"

"No… No… No one can. No one can help me." He hissed his eyes were still closed tightly. His breathing labored.

"Buck," Steve grabbed hold of his shoulders, shaking him very slightly. "Bucky, I'm here." His voice was soft and gentle. Bucky opened his eyes and met Steve's, for a moment, he seemed transfixed on his gaze. A single tear welled in his right eye, magnifying the pain, the torment, and the struggle within himself. It rolled down his scruffy cheek and onto his chin where it hung before dropping to the ground.

"I would remember you, sometimes… The memories… They would begin to flood back into my mind, and I would realize I was someone before-before _him_. I had a life with people who cared… And now… Now, it's all gone, Steve. I-I don't know how to get Bucky back." He met Steve's eyes with a gaze full of emotions: grief, anger, confusion, and sadness; all of which Steve could relate to. Waking up in the 21st century after having been frozen in time for seventy years was a bit of a smack in the face. He had lost his friends, his happiness, Peggy…. It was all gone. It hadn't mattered how much he had wanted to change things, the modern era was not open to changing, even with Captain America as its hero.

"It doesn't matter who you were, Bucky, you're still in there. You're still you… Even… Even after all this." He said with an assuring smile. He didn't care if his friend had been through hell, he believed in the best of people. Bucky had a lot of good in him, it had been stained and strained over the decades, but Steve was determined to lead his strayed friend back into the light.

At that, Bucky burst into laughter, pulling away from Steve's comforting touch. "Still me?! Steve, if only you knew… If only you knew what they did to me… I tried." His face is contorted in pain and he furrows his brow. "I tried _so damn _hard to break free of what they did to me all those years ago, but I can't. When I'm around you, I just…" His eyes flashed dangerously dark. Steve recognized that look. It had been the gaze that he had met that night when Fury had been shot. He remembered that cold-stoned gaze, void of all affection and empathy. He knew he had to lure him back before the Winter Soldier came back, and his friend was lost once more in the dark recesses of his mind.

"Bucky, do you remember when we went to the Yanks' World Series with your folks back in the spring of 36'? You were so excited because Pat Malone hit the ball so hard that it flew right into your hands. Your pops even took us to get some ice cream afterwards. You were escorting that pretty dame, Sarah, and the whole time I was wondering: How does this flat tire of a guy get the girl, and all I get is a hit of asthma?" He teased; he forced his tone to stay light. Bucky blinked and the shaky darkness dissipated from his gaze. Something extraordinary happened then, Bucky smiled slightly. It was a crack in the ice. The glacier of his winter days had thawed perhaps by only an inch, but it had made him smile. Steve could deal with that.

"I was a straight-shot, Stevie." He smiled a little wider at that. "Broads couldn't keep their hands off of me…" His face fell suddenly. "Now, they can't stand the sight of me." He raised his hands to look at the bionic arm that responded to his actions. He had come to hate this hunk of metal that hung from his shoulder. It represented a monster hidden beneath his dark eyes.

"It doesn't matter what they think, Bucky. I know who you are." Steve said softly as he took hold of his shoulder. "I believe in you." His bright blue irises invaded the darkness of Bucky's, shining brightly with belief and optimism. His friend met his eyes, his tortured ones revealed the fear of trusting Steve's words beneath all the pain.

"I wish I could believe that… But I can't." He shook his head, looking oddly frustrated. A sad smile pulled at his lips. "I can't." He turned and walked back into the darkened trunks that surrounded the cemetery, leaving Steve to watch after his friend's hunched form long after he disappeared.

* * *

**Three Weeks Later **

**Month One **

Sharon was bent over the toilet as vomit spilled into the porcelain bowl. She sat on her heels, spitting the remains of her sickness into the sink and washing it down the drain. For the past week, she had been getting these terrible sick spells it seemed only in the morning. It was not how she liked to start her day: sprinting to the toilet to puke her guts up. She got up and shivered slightly as the bitter October winds shifted through her cracked window. She grabbed her robe and slipped it over her shoulders, subsequently, closing the window. She then walked into the kitchen, grabbing hold of some leftover meatloaf and strawberries. Wait. She glanced down at her odd breakfast. Well, that's new.

She heated up the meatloaf and sat down on her barstool, located adjacently to the counter, picking at her food. She had all but lost her appetite as she felt another spell of dizziness come over her. She really should get to the doctor, but Fury had told her specifically to stay undercover until he gave her word that SHIELD was resurfacing underneath the radar of their enemies. She hated the feeling of restlessness she got whenever she was out of an assignment, she felt as if she was in an ocean that she was constantly treading water surrounded by nothing but emptiness. She needed to get in contact with Clint or Natasha; maybe one of them would know something about Fury's whereabouts. She had already tried Agent Hill, but Maria was by Fury's side, she would know better than to answer incoming calls from Sharon.

Sharon always known about SHIELD whether as her childhood adventure from the stories of her great aunt or during adulthood when it became so much more than a simple story. It had been by her Great Aunt Peggy's suggestion she join SHIELD. After all, Peggy had been one of the founding members of SHIELD, and Sharon had grown up hearing fantastical anecdotes of her journey with the Hollowing Commandos and the roots of HYDRA. She had been highly adept in fighting, as her parents who had been strong believers in martial arts got her involved with Taekwondo and Karate when she was a mere child, so it was not a matter of defense skills. She tested into a very high class of breaking codes and thinking herself out of difficult situations. Sharon knew she was special, different, and SHIELD was _where _she belonged.

Fury assigned her under Agent Phil Coulson, who taught her all he knew. He helped her adapt to any situation that she found herself in. It was from Coulson that she learned how to speak, act, and even eat, in some cases, like any person. He aided her in learning how to speak multiple languages in order to keep up a clean act of espionage, if the situation ever arose. She couldn't have been more in debt to the man, hearing of his "supposed" death with his mission alongside the Avengers, she was heartbroken. She swore to herself that she would destroy the man who did this to him. Since then, she always harbored a nasty dislike for Asgardians, even if Thor had nothing to do with it.

Speaking of, it was October; Phil's birthday was October fifteenth. She looked up to the calendar hanging on her bulletin board she kept above her kitchen sink, along with pictures of her sisters and herself, news of any kind, or reminders. She frowned slightly at the date, it was October twelfth. She was three weeks late. An uneasy feeling settled over her. The morning sickness, the acute sense of smell, and her inactive period… She grabbed an oversized sweatshirt and threw it on; dashing down the street to the convenient store located only a block away. She grabbed seven pregnancy tests, pushing past people to get to the front of the line. A woman snapped at her to get to the back of queue, but she didn't listen, quickly paying for her things, and sprinting back to her apartment. She checked the clock on her stove. The whole ordeal had lasted only six minutes. That had to be a record for something.

Sharon rushed into her bathroom and found her fat and pug-faced, Persian, Mr. Fluffy, watching her snootily from his seat on the toilet lid. She eyed him coolly and pushed him off forcibly to the ground; the cat hissed at her and darted out of the bathroom. Sharon sat down on the porcelain bowl and waited for a moment, before pulling the pregnancy test out from under her and throwing it into the sink, a bit disgusted with it. The box said to wait at least two minutes, so Sharon sat down, but felt too antsy to sit so she stood up and paced the pink bathroom tile. She looked at her watch; feeling as if it had been an hour; it had only been a minute. She walked out into the kitchen and drank a glass of water, feeling fidgety and fearing the worst. Her intuition was going off the charts, and one thing Sharon had always known, trust her intuition with her life. She came back into the bathroom and hesitated before looking into the sink. She was terrified by the prospect of what lay ahead.

The field agent took a breath, closed her eyes and murmured a prayer, before opening her eyes and looking into the sink. The pregnancy test only said one word in bright green letters:

**POSITIVE**

**A/N: OH, SHIT! How do you think Steve's going to react? :)) Let me know in a review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: HEY EVERYONE! Once again, thank you so much for all the comments and favorites and alerts you guys have given this story! It means more than you could ever possibly know. :) I realized there is a lot of "S's" in this chapter: Steve, Sharon, and Sam! TOO MANY 'S' NAMES! ;) Thanks, Marvel Comics! But seriously, this chapter is a bit funny, sad, and melancholy so I hope you guys enjoy! –F.H.**

**Chapter Four: Keep Calm and Carry Cap's Baby? **

"Stevie, just listen to what you're saying for a minute…" Sam stood in Steve's living room, his arms were crossed, and he had a wary expression on his face. Steve had finished telling his friend the story of Bucky's appearance, their conversation, and the slight humanity that Steve had seen beneath his tortured eyes. "Look, man, whatever you think you saw, whatever you think he's pulling, it could all just be an act. What if he's still working for HYDRA?" Sam gently probed.

"He's not." Steve said a bit sharply. He knew what he had seen in Bucky's eyes. His words had rang of genuine pain. He was lost and confused, and Steve intended to help him. "I know my friend, Sam. He was there. I _saw _him."

"Sometimes, brother, what's really there, and what we see are two _very _different things." Sam gave him a tragic sort of look. His dark brown eyes were both filled with sorrow and sympathy. Two things the super soldier was familiar with, and he certainly didn't appreciate them. He didn't want Sam's sympathy. He was sick to the core of sympathy. Everyone was always telling him they were sorry: Sorry, for your brainwashed best friend who kills people, Cap. Sorry, that the love of your life is on her death bed. Sorry, that you were born with asthma. Sorry, about the lives that were spent to protect you… He hated it. It made him feel like an acid taste had settled into his mouth.

"I know that, Sam, but Bucky he's-ˮ

Sam cut him off. "He's not the type of guy you can save, Stevie. Some of the guys back in my regiment… Man, their heads would just spin right off their bodies. It's awful to watch, but it happens. We try to save em', guide em' back into the light, but you can't. They don't want to be saved. The war isn't just a memory to them, anymore. It's in their breath, their thoughts, and their reality… It's everywhere. Sometimes, they just can't shake it."

Steve felt his world twist at an odd angle for a moment. Was what Sam saying…? Could it possibly be true? Bucky had been his other half, at one point, he had been his brother. Growing up it hadn't mattered to Steve that Bucky had been the one with the charismatic smiles, the slick moves, and the definite athletic one of their duo. He had been okay with just being known as "Bucky's friend." Now, Bucky had changed, but people didn't really change… Did they? Steve didn't believe so. He always knew that he was going to stay Steve Rogers; he wasn't going to let what Captain America had made him, reach into his life and change who he was. Had Bucky truly lost his identity? The Bucky that Steve knew and loved?

"No." He held onto that belief. It wasn't hope. It wasn't optimism. It was a belief, a principal. "No, Bucky is my friend, and that will never change, Sam."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Sam turned to look at Steve with a small frown. He was wondering the same thing the Captain was: who was at his door? He turned a bit and walked to the door, opening it easily. Steve didn't bother to lock his door. He was Captain America, after all. He narrowed his eyes a bit when he saw the petite blond standing before him. Her brown eyes bored into his.

"Sharon?" He arched an eyebrow. He wanted to know exactly why she was here. Considering it was Sharon Carter, he figured she either wanted to weasel her way into some type of information, or she had information that she was going to dangle over his head. He had thought of calling her the past month, but he had found it extremely hard to think of anything to say to her. He was never good at talking to women.

"Steve." She nodded a bit. She looked stone-faced. Her beautiful smile had been washed from her face like sand against a wave, while her brown eyes seemed to be void of all emotion. She simply kept staring at him like he had done something wrong. He almost bought it, until he saw her hands were visibly shaking. A red flag went up before Steve's vision. She was nervous. Her face didn't reveal anything, but her body language told another story.

"Oh, Stevie, man, you didn't tell me you were going to bringing a girl over here…" Sam came up behind him with a smart grin plastered on his face. His eyes were glimmering with an utter idiocy as he gave Sharon a flirtatious smile.

Captain Rogers only chuckled a bit. "Sam, this is Miss. Sharon Carter, Miss. Carter this is-ˮ

"Sam Wilson, or better known as the Falcon. I know exactly who you are." Sharon's cold expression broke instantly into a warm and welcoming smile. Steve was a bit taken back. Her experience at holding her façade was uncanny. He wondered which part she was pretending to be: the cool and evasive agent or the kind girl who appeared innocent.

"Aye, your girl knows what's up!" Sam laughed and rubbed the side of her arm. "Aye, Stevie, get this girl in here! She deserves some praise for knowing who I am." He pulled her inside, laughing amiably about some sort of witty quip that Sharon stated. Steve found it extremely odd she was posing at Sam's friend, when she had hardly known him in the first place.

"First, let's see what she wants." Steve looked at her pointedly. He didn't care what had happened between them… Even if it was one of the best nights of his life… He knew Sharon Carter didn't simply show up at someone's doorstep because she was sharing chocolate-chip cookies, she wanted something. He wasn't about to forget the year she spent lying to him about her true persona. He didn't trust her, even if she was on the same side as him.

"I…" She got a sickly expression on her face. Her knees started to wobble a bit, Steve ever the gentleman, grabbed her shoulder gently and helped her to stay steady. Sharon gave him a bitter glare. He could tell she definitely wasn't a fan of people helping her. "I… I have something to tell you." Her eyes moved to Sam for a fraction of a second, it was so quick Sam didn't even notice, but Steve did. She was signaling for him to leave. Steve had no intention of sending his friend home.

"I'm sure what you have to tell me, you can say with Sam here." Steve said with a bit of a smirk. He knew it was cruel, but he really wasn't in the mood to deal with Sharon's crap.

Sharon's pallor became a shade lighter as he spoke. Her eyes darted nervously from the both of them, before she swallowed and closed her eyes. "Fine…" She breathed in to steady her breathing and finally opened her eyes to meet Steve's, a terror so bright and genuine flickered in her chocolate-colored orbs. "I uh… I took a pregnancy test."

Steve's world stopped moving. Sharon's words stopped coming from her mouth and Sam's eyes instantly dropped to the door. He slowly inched towards it. "Look, guys, it's been real, it's been fun, but uh…it hasn't been _real _fun… So, I'm going to go." He moved quickly, before Sharon grabbed him fiercely on the arm, her eyes never leaving Steve's. Her strength was surprising strong, even if Sam was twice the size of her.

"No, Sam, please…" She smiled sweetly as her eyes never left the shocked super soldier. "It gets better." That's when she noticed Steve wasn't moving. His blue eyes were frozen with a wide and gaping fear; his mouth hung open slightly, while his chest had ceased to move. She thought he had fainted standing up. She had heard of those catatonic fits that some epileptics would drop into before they would bounce into a full-blown seizure, but she immensely doubted Steve was an epileptic.

Part of Steve hoped that she had simply come here to gloat that it was a pregnancy scare, to make him jump a little, but this was Sharon. He could see she was shaking once more, before she said in complete boldness: "Steve, I'm pregnant." It was then that his heart truly did stop and he felt his breath catch in his throat. A complete state of shock froze his powerful muscles, while Sharon touched his arm. "Rogers? Hey, Steve!" Sam even appeared a bit worried as he made his way over, frowning deeply.

"Stevie? You, okay?"

Sharon shook his large shoulder, but he didn't even blink. His thoughts were at a million miles per hour, as a sheer mass of emotions was hitting him in the face. He could barely see straight in front of him. He was going to be a-a-a… He couldn't even bring the sentence to the front of his mind. How had it happened? Sharon must be lying! That was the only explanation. Or-or maybe he wasn't his kid. That instantly made the situation another shade worse. Wait; did he want the baby to be his? Of course not! He was Captain America; he didn't have time to be a super hero and a father, but still, the idea of Sharon having another man's baby made him a little upset. Not that he cared… Did she want him to be involved? He wasn't sure if he wanted to be involved. Holy shit. Steve was hit with an onslaught of nausea… If the media found out he had an illegitimate child… No, he had to do something. He had to think of a plan. A Captain always had a plan. What was his? This wasn't the type of plan that Captain America would usually think of…

"Is it possible for super soldiers to have a heart attack? Is he having a hernia?" He heard someone say, but due to the thoughts racing around his head, he couldn't be sure which of his friends said it.

"Hang on; I know how to deal with this." A powerful slap slammed into his face. With a cry of pain he snapped out his panicked haze and narrowed his eyes at Sharon.

"What the hell was that for?!"

"Well, I thought you died." Sharon said with a matter-of-fact tone. She took his attention finally, and sighed tiredly, running a hand through her bouncy curls. "I'm not keeping it… I'm getting an abortion on Monday." Sharon saw Sam shake his slightly at her with a warning expression on his face. She knew what he was thinking: Why the hell are you telling him that?! Yes, she figured Steve would react a bit startled, but when she explained her reasoning behind it, he would have to understand. She wasn't the "Mom-type" of person.

Steve frowned a bit, he had heard the term before, but it was very vague in his general knowledge. "What's that?" Why had she said as if she was getting ready to sign a death warrant?

"Uh… Well," Sharon ran a hand through her hair once more, she was still obviously very anxious. Steve had noticed the unmistakable tension in her shoulders as well as the tremors that had returned to her knees. "It's when they remove the baby."

Steve didn't like the sound of that. How could they remove a month-old baby from the mother when he needed to be in a gestational period of nine months? "What do you mean?"

"Well, they either use a scissors or some sort of fluid… Ah, well… Anyway, really."

When Sam noticed Steve's expression, he moved quickly to stand in front of Sharon. "Stevie, listen maybe it's for the-ˮ

"_THEY DO WHAT_?!" Steve screamed. He felt his fingers curl into fists and a wrath so fierce pump through his veins. He pushed Sam out of the way easily and placed his face mere inches from Sharon's, she flinched at his proximity, but other than that met his eyes unyieldingly. He didn't care if the baby was an accident; he was an innocent human being. Abortion was _murder_.

"Look, Steve, everyone gets one, now. It's not that big of a deal." Sharon rolled her eyes, even with Sam's digression.

"Not a big deal?!" Steve was full of incredulity at what he was hearing. "This is murder, Sharon. First-degree murder!" How could she propose something so sinister?

Bright anger seemed to catch fire in Sharon's dark eyes. She raised her face just an inch so their eyes would be at level. She had never liked being spoken to as if she was inferior to anyone. She had always been a woman who, if people thought lesser of her, she would tend to prove them wrong. Now, of all people, _Captain America _was telling _her _about moral issues. She knew all about moral issues. She had worked at SHIELD for almost seven years, where on a daily she was forced to make decisions of morality and justice in less than a second. She wouldn't stand for this.

"What do you want me to do?! Have it? Listen, _Captain _Rogers, I am not _motherly _material!" She hissed at him as she narrowed her eyes sharply. "I am _not _about to give up everything I have just so I can give birth to _your _kid. I have a life with SHIELD, it's the only thing I've ever been good at. I'm not about to give that all up to become your baby oven." She snapped at him.

What was infuriating about this statement was that there was _no _SHIELD. Sharon, in Steve's opinion, had nothing. She had hit ground zero. "What life?! SHIELD's gone. Don't you remember? You helped destroy everything that made it. Even if there was a SHIELD, again, why would you join? All it did was lie to you, lie to me, and cause thousands of people to risk their lives for some stupid reason."

Sharon's eyes were glimmering with what appeared to be tears. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, looking away for a moment. "You would never understand. SHIELD is my home. It's my family. It's where I belong, and _you_ would never understand that. You've never belonged anywhere your entire life!" She said with a bitter lacing in her words, her voice was rising with a bit of hysteria as tears welled in her eyes. "And for the last time: I. Am. Not. Having. Your. Baby." She screamed into his face. She tried to hide the hurt that was clearly glimmering in her eyes as she turned sharply on her heel and walked out the door. She proceeded to make a show of it by slamming the door and deliberately knocking a picture off the wall.

Steve felt a large welt of emotion swell up inside his chest as he stared at the door where Sharon had just stormed out of. He knew he had hurt her feelings, but what she had said about him not belonging anywhere… It had been true for most of his life. Dating back to the days where he had struggled to fit in with high school and when he had tried to become a soldier while dealing with his asthma. He had finally felt as if he belonged when he became Captain America, people had looked to him for direction and support. Now, he had awoken in the 21st century where literally everyone had their own plans for the Captain. He had been played and heckled into doing things he didn't think were right. The truth washer words had struck home so adeptly that he felt the very fight drain out of him. It must have been a special gift of SHIELD agents to target the most emotional sensitivities of their enemy.

Then there was the part of the baby… What could he do to stop her? He had to stop her from killing the baby—_their _baby. Sam sighed and patted Steve on the shoulder. "I have to go after her."

"Yeah, man, you kind of do." Steve didn't stick around to argue as he ran out the apartment door and down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of her blond curls.

**What do YOU think will happen? The next chapter might be a little unexpected as one of my all-time favorite Captain America super villains is going to be addressed! R&R **


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